


Ace in the Hole

by nox_caelum



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Mentor/Protégé, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nox_caelum/pseuds/nox_caelum
Summary: They were dead things, made by a dead power, in the shape of the dead. They were never meant to be more than weapons. She was never meant to be more than a soldier. He was never meant to be more than her commander. But if Cayde-6 taught her anything, it was 'never say never'.A love story about a starstruck Hunter and her devilish Vanguard, spanning the Destiny campaign and DLC. Primarily a Cayde and Niala story, with minor appearances from other characters.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> HEADS UP- Chapters 1&2 are all about Niala's backstory. If you want to skip straight to content with Cayde, start at Chapter 3. (However- this series will hopefully explore both Cayde/Niala as individuals as well as an eventual couple, so if you don't like reading the backstory you might not like the fic in general?)
> 
> Bungie has a habit of being unspecific with Destiny lore, so I took a few liberties (the concept of the 'collective', etc). This'll be pretty common throughout the fic since official lore is a little more loose than I'd like- hopefully my headcanons aren't too objectionable.
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, the primary characters are going to be Cayde and Niala, but many other characters will feature as well. Among them are Charon (Niala's Ghost), Jun (a male human Warlock), and Nadir (a male Exo Titan).
> 
> (And before you ask, yes, this fic is completely self-indulgent- but I still hope someone else can get some enjoyment out of it, too.)
> 
> ⸻ Cayde/Niala Playlist ⸻ 
> 
> ▽ Main Theme: Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy  
> ▽ Hooked on a Feeling - Blue Swede  
> ▽ Safe and Sound - Capital Cities  
> ▽ We Are the Kids - WALK THE MOON  
> ▽ Magic - Mystery Skulls  
> ▽ Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? - Arctic Monkeys  
> \+ to be continued!

The first thing she hears is silence. It is her sole tether to sensation until her eyes flutter open, revealing a sea of stars. They encompass her completely, beautiful only for an instant. Then she tries to breathe but finds no air, each inaudible, shuddering gasp sending a shock through her body as she struggles to comprehend where, who, _why_  she is. All around her is metal wreckage, and the stars, and the terrible, oppressive silence.  
  
<Oh no,> says a quiet voice in her ear, but when she twists to face it, no one is there. <I didn’t think I’d- hold on, Guardian. Don’t panic.>  
  
_Where are you?_  she mouths, but no words come out, and her body is turning to ice. Consciousness sifts through her fingers in a manner of seconds. Beneath the unwavering stare of the stars, she dies.  
  
Then, again, she blooms.  
  
Light spills into her, over her, around her, and when she inhales, air rushes to meet her thirsty lungs. She touches a hand to her face, fingers tracing the apparatus encasing it. <So you don’t suffocate again,> the voice answers her unspoken question. <I’m… _really_  sorry about that, by the way.>  
  
“Who are- what’s-?”  
  
<I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but we don’t have much time. That suit is made from scrap- it won’t last very long in these conditions. We need to find a ship.>  
  
Something whispers at the edge of her memory, and she turns. Metal shards float away from her like a telltale trail of blood. They lead to a hulking ruin, a massive frame of glass and steel loosely encasing a form. A man stares at her through bright, glazed eyes, gray skin choked with frost. Recognition pangs where her memory fails, and when she touches his cheek her eyes well with tears.  
  
“Who is he?”  
  
<I… don’t know. But I found you next to him.>  
  
“Can you save him?”  
  
<No.>  
  
“But… you brought me back. Didn’t you?”  
  
<Yes. But there’s nothing for me to resurrect. He has no Light.> Her chest tightens. Hesitant, the voice goes on. <It may be too late for him, but it isn’t for you. Not yet.>  
  
She clenches her jaw and pulls herself forward, using spaceship debris for leverage, trying to ignore the way her stomach lurches as she leaves the body behind. Her mind is scattered, every recollection floating hazily out of reach, refusing to come into focus. It’s frustrating, to say the least. “Why am I here?”  
  
<It’s a long story. But the short version is that the Traveler needs you.>  
  
“The Traveler?” She considers their surroundings. Whatever killed her and the unnamed man must have killed countless others, judging by the graveyard of ships around them.  
  
<Yes. It fought so that humanity could survive- you are one of its Guardians.>  
  
She kicks herself off of another hunk of metal, floating towards one of the more intact ships. “What does that mean?”  
  
<That you have Light within you. That you’re sworn to protect the Last City.>  
  
“Why can’t I remember any of this?”  
  
<You were just born. There’s nothing for you to remember.>  
  
That makes about as much sense as the rest of the nonsense the voice in her head is peddling, but for now she shrugs it off, making a note to demand more cogent answers later. When she reaches the side of the small craft she pries at the door with scrabbling fingers. Eventually she concedes, her fist thudding silently against metal. “Looks like we’re out of luck- uh. What do I call you?”  
  
<‘Ghost’ will do. May I?> Something bubbles within her, takes form at her side - a small mechanical thing, white with a glowing blue light at its core. The owner of the voice, presumably. It hovers by the ship’s airlock, scanning the door with a probing light.  
  
“Ghost, huh?” She exhales, half laughing. “I guess that makes two of us.”  
  
“There,” it chirps. A light on the ship flickers on, blinking twice before the door slides open. “Quick, get inside.”  
  
She obeys, watching as Ghost shuts the door behind them, listening as the lock hisses and stabilizes. After a moment another door opens, beckoning them further inside. She follows a trail of gentle glowing lights on the floor, footsteps hollow in the empty craft. “Why is this one still intact?”  
  
“It’s either newer than the others, or you were wrong about our luck.” Ghost floats on ahead of her, looking this way and that. “Here we are. I restored the ship’s power, so we should be able to fly back to Earth.”  
  
She pushes aside the lifeless body slumped in the cockpit, muttering an apology as she takes their seat. A panel of foreign lights stares her down, Ghost hovering expectantly beside her. “Don’t tell me you expect _me_  to fly this thing.”  
  
“Well… yes.”  
  
“What? But- I don’t know _how_.” She reaches a tentative arm towards the imposing array, then retracts it, hands settling uselessly in her lap. “I can’t do this. You should have chosen him, not me.” Whoever he was, his body lay cradled in what looked like a pilot’s chair. He’d probably know what he was doing. At the very least, he didn't deserve to be left behind.  
  
“Don’t give up! Not after I spent so long searching for you.” It flits anxiously by her shoulder, uncertain how to reassure her. “I promise it’s not as difficult as it looks- and you have the collective to help you. That’s a sort of… database, an unconscious wealth of information that you share with other Guardians.”  
  
“Are you saying I’m part of a fucking hivemind?”  
  
“No, nothing like that. It’s more like an instinct, or muscle memory.” It glances around at the controls. “Aha! If I enter the Tower’s coordinates here, the autopilot should be able to take us most of the way there. After you get us clear of the wreckage, that is- the sheer volume of it will interfere with the ship’s navigational systems.”  
  
“Ugh. All right.” She takes a deep breath, settling her hands over what she assumes are the steering implements. “That doesn’t sound so bad. We’ll take it slow.”  
  
“... Oh no.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Fly. Now!”  
  
The urgency in its voice strikes a chord in her; judging by the way her fingers move unprompted to fire up the ship’s thrusters, it was right about the collective. She grits her teeth so tightly they grind, trying to find a medium between unbridled acceleration and death by collision.  
  
The wreckage extends much farther than she anticipated, but with no choice in the matter she does her best to weave through it. A radar on the console pings despite her efforts, clarifying Ghost’s anxiety- they’re being followed. Two- no, three ships, blazing after them. A voice crackles through a comm system somewhere, imperial and foreboding. “Unidentified craft! You have trespassed into the realm of the Awoken. State your business, now!”  
  
“Not good,” Ghost frets. “The Queen doesn’t like visitors- especially unannounced visitors.”  
  
“What do I tell them?”  
  
“I- I don’t know.”  
  
“State your business, or prepare to be fired upon,” the voice repeats as their pursuers assume a triangular formation behind them.  
  
“Uh- we’re- we’re just passing through! Heading for the… Tower?” she stammers, hoping to avoid suffocating in space again, or worse.  
  
“And just what is a Guardian doing all the way out here?” A new voice snarls.  
  
“U-Uldren, sir-!” Their original aggressor sounds surprised; she has no idea whether that’s good or bad.  
  
“Guardian, you have exactly ten seconds to deccelerate your craft and lock onto the trajectory of your entourage. Fail to comply and your corpse will be added to the Reef.”  
  
“Locking trajectory now.” She releases her death grip on the thrusters, entering another magic sequence of button presses. Once she’s done she turns toward Ghost, their secondhand ship falling in line behind the others, towed in their wake. Uncertainty furrows her brow. “What did you get me into?”  
  
“We’re about to find out,” it murmurs back, nodding at the immense hangar looming before them.


	2. Threads of the Past

It’s hard to shake the feeling that they’re flying into the belly of a beast.

Their ship barely touches ground before someone pounds on the hull. The Guardian and her Ghost scramble to open it before their captors make good on their threat. Two armored guards are waiting for them, guns at the ready. “Weapons?” one of them barks.

“No,” she replies, but they search her anyway, patting down her scrapmetal suit thoroughly before they are satisfied.

“You should know that Prince Uldren gave us permission to fire if you try anything suspicious.”

“Noted.” She has nothing but her bare hands anyway, and no reason to use them against whoever they’re ferrying her to.

They motion her forward, guiding her through endless metal hallways. By the time they near their destination, she has no idea how to get back to the hangar; she wouldn’t be surprised if that was intentional on their part.

Their journey sees them to the uppermost bridge of the ship, ushers them down an impressive catwalk. Burgundy banners hang from the ceiling, swaying with quiet menace despite a lack of wind. A throne awaits them at the end of the walkway, a dark-haired figure standing before it with his arms crossed over his chest. “My prince,” one of the guards greets him, but he doesn’t bother returning the acknowledgement.

He gives the Guardian a once-over as she approaches, bright eyes narrowing in preemptive suspicion. “Let’s cut right to the chase, shall we? What does the Vanguard want? No, let me rephrase: why should I _care_ what the Vanguard wants?”

She looks at Ghost, raising a shoulder in a helpless shrug. Timidly, Ghost floats forward a pace. “We’re very sorry to disturb you- but I can assure you, the only thing the Vanguard wants is to bring this Guardian home.”

His eyebrows raise. “So they were hoping you wouldn’t be discovered. It brings me great pleasure to foil their plans. But what foolish errand brought you here? And how did you get so close to the Reef undetected?” Behind him, two hulking creatures with spears in their hands crawl out of the shadows. Ghost tenses at the sight of them, but the Guardian is more concerned with the one that follows: a woman with stark white hair and clear, glowing eyes. She sprawls over the throne, watching them with quiet interest.

Uldren notices them looking and moves to block their view. “She is not your concern. Answer me!”

“I- I didn’t come here by order of the Vanguard. I came here because I was searching. For her.” Ghost nods at its Guardian. “She was dead long before I found her.”

“What?” He stares past Ghost at her, his gaze withering. “You resurrected her? _Here_?”

“Yes. I never thought to look for her so far from Earth- usually we don’t need to. I guess that’s why it took me so long to find her.”

The man’s lip curls; he makes no attempt to hide his disgust. “You arrive in Awoken territory _unannounced_ and think you can just fly out of here with something that belongs to us?”

“Belongs to?” The Guardian’s voice is sharp. “How could I possibly belong to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

“But we know who she is.” Though spoken softly, the words are undeniably authoritative. All eyes turn to the woman on the throne.

“Your Grace?” There is a question in Uldren’s voice.

“Bring her to me, brother.”

He spends another moment trying to guess his sister’s intentions, but her expression betrays nothing. He has no choice but to beckon the Guardian closer, his scowl deepening. “Well? You heard the Queen’s command.”

She and Ghost exchange another look. She takes a step forward, feet padding lightly on the red and white carpet that cascades from the throne like smeared blood. The Queen’s guards stand at attention all the while, spears trained firmly on the Guardian. When only a few steps separate them, their spears flash into a cross, barring her from coming any closer. At her back, the Queen’s brother hisses, “ _Kneel_.”

Her jaw clenches, but she obeys, swallowing any whispers of pride that snatch at the back of her mind. Her eyes focus on the red threads under her knees instead in an attempt to distract herself. She doesn’t dare wonder what anyone wants with her when she knows so little about her place in this familiar-yet-foreign world.

As if sensing the Guardian’s predicament, the Queen reaches for her chin, angling it until their eyes meet. The Queen’s eyes are unreadable ice, as mesmerizing as they are cold. She stares into the Guardian for several heartbeats before her lips part and she summons a name: “Niala.”

The Guardian blinks. “Do… do you know who I am?”

Icy fingers brush her cheek; the Queen shakes her head slowly. “No. Yet my brother does not lie. She was once ours, in the time before, when our father chased us to the edges of the Black. She was there when the starlight kissed the darkness and wished us into being. But the stars no longer sing in her eyes. She- it- is dead to us now.” She drops her hand, gesturing at her brother. He gladly seizes the Guardian by the arm, jerking her away from the throne. “Let it take its ball to their Tower. It does not belong here anymore.”

“But–wait-” Niala objects, glancing between the Queen and her advisor. Ghost is stricken by the plea in its Guardian’s voice.

The Queen is impassive as she sentences the Guardian to live in exile. “Leave now. And do not return.”

“As you wish,” the dark-haired man bows to his sister, his glower transforming into a smirk as he shoves the Guardian back toward her armed escorts. “Those who claim allegiance to the Vanguard have no right to the Queen’s time. Take them away.”

The mercy Niala seeks is nowhere to be found. An Awoken guard jabs her in the back with their rifle when she stands motionless for too long. “Move. Don’t make us drag you.”

Her throat chokes with confusion and rejection. Bowing her head, she turns away from the fraying threads of her old life. The Queen’s eyes bore holes into her back as she trudges down the bridge, staring at her feet.

Ghost feels an unexpected twinge as it hovers at her side. “Are you okay?”

“No? I don’t know.” She glances at it sideways. “Seems like I should get used to not belonging.”

“But you _do_ belong, Guardian. With me. I spent years looking for you, you know. There were other candidates along the way, of course– others with enough Light for me to manifest– but none of them were you. And now that I’ve found you, we can work together to protect the Traveler- to protect the _world_.”

Her tongue clicks against her teeth. “How did you know you were looking for _me_? What makes me so damn special?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a scientific explanation for you. When I found you, I just… _knew_. I may not know what makes you special yet, but I’d like to find out. Together.” She can’t help but chuckle at how genuine it sounds. That seems to dismay Ghost a bit, judging by the way its segments rotate- it looks flustered somehow. “I-I’m being serious, Guardian.”

“I know- sorry, I…” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “It’s just… a lot. But I guess there’s nothing else.”

That nothingness weighs on her mind with every step into the hangar, settles into her bones as she sits at the control panel and Ghost confirms their course to the so-called ‘Tower’. She’s still uncertain if this unbidden fresh start is a blessing or a curse; it’s hard to gauge when she has no idea what she’s lost.

“Can I ask you something, Ghost?”

“Of course.”

“What am I?”

It is a loaded question. Ghost treats it with the respect it deserves, considering all possible answers as the ship’s autopilot comes online.

“You are an Awoken. You must have lived here once, in the Reef, but that was your old life. Now you are a weapon, chosen by the Traveler to defend humanity from the Darkness. It is an important duty to uphold. You are also my Guardian. I know that together we will accomplish many things, and learn a great deal.” It pauses, considering her expression. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes.” She leans back in her seat with a sigh. “But there’s one more thing. A favor I want to ask.”

“I’ll do my best to accommodate.”

“Will you call me by name? ‘Guardian’ sounds so…” Formal. Foreign. But maybe she'll grow into it.“I just don’t want to lose every trace of… whoever I used to be. And if we’re going to be partners we should be on a first-name basis, right?”

Ghost’s light softens. “Of course. It is a pleasure to meet you, Niala.”

The gentle hum of space travel is like a lullaby. Niala slumps in her chair, watching stars streak by, wondering what lies over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've gotten the origin mess out of the way, I think we'll finally get to meet Cayde in the next chapter!


	3. Trial by Fire

“Eyes up, Guardian. We’re nearly there.”

Niala stirs, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She’d dozed off, though only for a moment. Her brief encounter with the Awoken royalty had been more draining than she realized.

Their ship cuts a swath through clouds stained golden with evening light. They’re still too high for a glimpse of the ground, but her gaze immediately locks on the massive white sphere piercing the sky. For as nebulous as Ghost’s explanations have seemed, she can’t deny the gravity she feels when she spots it.

“The Traveler,” Ghost murmurs.

Even as the ship begins to circle towards their destination, she finds herself craning her neck, reluctant to break sight with the mysterious orb. “Is it-” she begins, only to stiffen as an unfamiliar sensation washes over her. Her skin feels like static, body paralyzed as the ship vanishes from around her and worn tile materializes under her feet.

She stumbles, knees wobbling while she regains her balance. “Oh- sorry,” Ghost frets at her side, “I should have warned you.”

Niala groans, focusing on the solidity of the ground beneath her. “First it was space asphyxiation, now it’s… whatever that was.”

“Transmat, to get you out of the ship. You’ll get used to it, or so the other Guardians always say.”

“Let’s just make it a habit to give me advance notice if you’re going to phase me through something.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

Around them, the world bustles. There’s a great deal of movement here, much more than in the isolated segments of the Reef they were funneled through. People sit, stand, chatter. Someone in armor exchanges goods with a nodding Awoken; a peach-skinned woman makes an inquiry at a window lit in orange; a small crowd stands in a circle, laughing and dancing.

“Welcome home, Niala. This is the Tower, where Guardians come to rest and keep their vigil over the city.”

She turns. A blanket of light rests in the Traveler’s shadow, glittering in the twilight. She sees motion in and around the steel buildings the Tower overlooks, notes the gentle pulse of what must be people in the streets. There’s a rhythm to it, a heartbeat that takes her breath away. “Everything’s so… alive. Is this really the only city left?”

“Yes. This is what we fight to protect. Speaking of which- we need to get you to the Vanguard. Follow me.” Ghost leads her down several flights of stairs, into a hallway lined with other Guardians. Most of them ignore her as they pass, though some nod or stare.

“Ghost… how many Guardians are there?”

“Hundreds, though you might never see them all in the same place. Our fight spans the galaxy, and there are always Guardians out in the field.”

The hallway opens up into a room with a high ceiling, curved windows granting a view of the sun’s waning light. A table sits at its center, littered with books and papers; three individuals encircle it, each preoccupied with their duties.

The man standing at its head has a commanding presence, broad-shouldered and as bright-eyed as the Awoken Queen. At the other end, a woman with short, dark hair pores over a text, gloved fingers tracing the page in front of her. The last hunches over a large map in the middle of the room, hood obscuring most of his face from view.

Ghost swivels to face his Guardian. “The Vanguard awaits.”

“Er.” She glances uncertainly between Ghost and the imposing trio. “I just… walk in?”

“I believe so. Though I’ve never done this before either.”

“I dunno, they look… busy.”

Ghost’s light flickers, its confidence faltering in tandem with Niala’s. “I… suppose we could-”

“Well, well! Thought I smelled fresh meat,” a new voice crows, making them both jump. The man in the hood sidles up to them, hands on his hips. “You _are_ new here, aren’t you, Guardian?” There are lights in his cheeks that flash orange with each syllable, illuminating the blue metal plates that comprise his face.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring until he cocks his head at her. “Never seen an Exo before, huh? Don’t worry, we don’t bite.”

“Oh- I didn’t mean to– that is–” she shakes her head. “Sorry- yes. I’m new.”

“Uh-huh. So, who’re you looking for?”

“The… Vanguard?”

He chuckles. “Figured as much- but _which_ Vanguard? What’s your specialty, kid?” She must look as confused as she feels, given that he looks to Ghost for an answer. “Why don’t you help enlighten us, Ghost? You must’ve seen how she wields the Light on your way here.”

“Oh.” Ghost glances at Niala sheepishly. “Well… not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed with skepticism. “You saying you _didn’t_ have to fight your way up here?”

“That’s right. I found her in the Reef.”

“Huh! First time for everything, I guess. How’d you talk your way outta there? The Awoken aren’t exactly known for their hospitality.”

Niala shrugs. “They lost interest pretty quickly when they realized I didn’t know anything. What was the phrase, Ghost? ‘Dead to us’?”

“Yeeeah, amnesia’s a bitch. Bothers some Guardians more than others. Hell, even I’ve spent a fair bit of time trying to suss out my old life, but you’re better off focusing on the here and now. Trust me.” He extends his hand. “Cayde-6 is the name, and hunting’s my game. Or it used to be, ‘til I got saddled with desk duty. But that’s a story for another time.”

She takes his hand, shaking it firmly. “Niala. Self-proclaimed expert at being embarrassingly new to this.”

He laughs at that, hand returning to his hip. “We’ve all gotta start somewhere. Though I have to admit, it’s pretty unusual for new Guardians to show up without a scuffle or two along the way. We _could_ just chuck you back into the wild, but… no- no, I’ve got a better idea.” He motions for her to follow, strutting across the room towards someone nearby. “Shaxx! Hey, Shaxx!”

A hulking man in armor turns at the sound of the voice, though he doesn’t seem pleased about being hailed. “What do you want?” It’s difficult not to gawk - he’s at least a full head taller than Cayde, intimidating in his metal armor and closefaced helmet.

“Relax, you’ll love this.” The Exo motions at his companion. “This is Niala. She’s new here. Seems she didn’t get a chance to crack any skulls on her way in, seeing as she came from the Reef. Since she’s never fought anyone, we don’t know which Vanguard to send her to, so we’re looking for a challenge we can throw at her. See where I’m going with this?”

“I can hardly believe my ears. A decent idea, coming from you?”

“Told ya you’d love it.” Cayde nods at Niala. “Shaxx’ll sort you out. Stop by when you’ve had enough, alright? I wager you’ll know where you belong when you come back.”

The way he snickers to himself as he wanders off leaves her wary. She turns to Shaxx, frowning. “What exactly did he just sign me up for?”

“Good instincts, Guardian- you’re right to be vigilant when Cayde is involved. This time, however, his judgment is sound.” He swells with pride as he towers over her. “Welcome to the Crucible.”

⸻ ▽ ⸻

Niala’s nerves buzz as she clutches her ship’s joystick, flying low over the ground. “I can’t believe Guardians actually fly around the galaxy just to kick each other’s asses.”

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification.” There’s a faint hint of amusement in Ghost’s voice. “You should probably avoid saying things like that around Lord Shaxx.”

“No kidding. He looks like he could snap me in half.” She shakes her head. “This is a terrible idea. They’re going to slaughter me.”

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll resurrect you.”

“I’m assuming that doesn’t make the dying hurt any less.”

“Unfortunately, no. But please try to relax. The Crucible is more than challenging enough to test your limits, and a much safer place to do so than the wild. Here you can fail as many times as you need to.”

She laughs. “You’re terrible at being comforting.”

The ship’s radar pings, indicating that they’ve reached their destination. True to its word, Ghost warns her before the transmat this time. The ship’s autopilot steers it back into orbit as they materialize in a field of ruined buildings. Everything is either crumbling, rusted, or overgrown with flora; with the way Shaxx described it, Niala had expected a grandiose arena.

Four Guardians lounge in the grass, chatting amongst themselves. They all look much more seasoned in their battle-tested armor, a variety of guns strapped on each of them. The only one without a helmet rises as she walks toward them, canting his head to the side and grinning widely. “Finally! We were getting antsy out here.”

“Sorry. I’m Niala–”

“Aaaand stop. No personal details. You have to earn that right.” His brown eyes twinkle with mischief. “You must be new. Who’s your Vanguard?”

“No idea. That’s why I’m here. Something about testing my mettle and earning my honor?”

“Wow. You might be the most inexperienced Guardian to ever take on the Crucible. You’re either really brave, or really stupid.” Behind him, the others laugh; Niala blushes uncomfortably. So much for camaraderie.

“You’re embarrassing the poor thing,” a woman in heavy armor muses, giving Niala’s tormentor a playful punch on the arm.

“We can afford to throw her a bone, right guys? Here.” His Ghost materializes a gun out of thin air; he tosses it in Niala’s direction. “Pulled that off of a Fallen earlier. A little elementary for my tastes, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” she says dryly.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, unruffled by her deadpan demeanor. “One more thing- you’ll learn to tell the difference on your own, but I’ll help you out this time. Those two,” he gestures at the two heavily-armored Guardians, “are Titans. They can give and take hits better than anyone else. Me and this guy are Warlocks- masters of the elements, and smart as hell, so stay on your toes.”

Niala glanced at the motley array of Guardians. “I thought Shaxx said there would be six of us.”

“There are. Last one’s a Hunter. She’s a little shy- prefers saying ‘hello’ with a blade in your back.” A helmet appears in his hands. He pulls it over his head with a final wink. “That should be enough to get you started, at least. Good luck out there.”

“Transmat incoming,” Ghost chirps, and they blink away from the others, reappearing in an isolated corner of a ruined building.

“Watch your back, Guardian,” Shaxx’s disembodied voice rumbles in her ear, “no one else will.”

An eerie silence settles in. For a moment she stays crouched in place, listening. Then, reluctantly, she creeps out of her hiding spot, gun gripped tightly in her hands. “Watch your radar,” Ghost whispers. “It’ll show you when someone is clo- look out, Guardian!”

Its warning comes too late to avoid the bullet between her eyes. She’s conscious long enough to hear the talkative Warlock hum, “Gotcha!” Then everything is void.

As always, her rebirth is violent. When Ghost forges her out of Light, the sound of the fatal gunshot is still ringing in her ears. There’s no time to recover; the radar Ghost showed her blares red, and she ducks around a corner as shots whizz past. She’s so busy keeping track of where the gunfire is coming from that she completely misses the Titan at her flank. This time her downfall comes in the form of a fist; the Titan throws her against a wall, breaking several bones, and puncturing her lungs. Mercifully, they end her suffering with another punch, and her world goes dark again.

They’re absolutely relentless. Niala dies again, and again, and again- here in a fiery explosion, there at the hands of the unseen Hunter and her sniper rifle. She’s tempted to give up more than once, but frustrated determination refuses to let her. This is all she has now, all she is. What use would the world have for a weapon that can’t kill?

Though her opponents are eager to play cat and mouse with her, sometimes they distract each other and buy her some time. On one such occasion she listens for the telltale boom of the sniper rifle, crouching in a corner and pinpointing the Hunter’s location. She creeps toward the sound, finally lays eyes on the cloaked woman, and gets close enough to touch her- so, naturally, she punches her in the back.

The blow isn’t fatal. Panicked, the Hunter rolls away, reaching for the pistol at her waist. On instinct Niala snatches at a weapon strapped to the woman’s leg- a blade. It completes her arm, singing through the air to plunge into the other’s neck.

It is finally enough. The Hunter’s body dissipates into Light, and Niala earns her first kill. She’s paralyzed by shock and relief until Shaxx’s voice barks, “Good work, Guardian. Now get back out there.”

“R-right.” She clutches the knife like a lifeline, dropping down from the sniper perch and keeping an eye on her radar. The gun at her side is forgotten in favor of her newly-acquired blade, and though her deaths remain numerous, now she’s biting back.

By the time Shaxx announces their time is running short, she’s fallen into a rhythm guided by instinct and free from overthinking. “Just a little longer,” Ghost urges. She’s only half-listening; the red dots on her radar are circling her like a maelstrom.

The air around her erupts in fire and bullets. In the heat of their final moments, as the other Guardians surround her, Niala can feel the Light pumping through her veins, too monstrous to contain. Energy surges from her arm, her blade crackling with lightning. She doesn’t think, she just _strikes_ , each vicious swing thrusting her forward. In three quick slashes it’s over.

“Triple down!” Shaxx crows. “That’s enough for now, Guardians. Well done.”

The mouthy Warlock respawns nearby with a whoop, pulling his helmet off again. “I think she found her spark!”

“Bladedancer.” One of the Titans shakes their head. “Typical.”

“Lighten up! Arc’s not as easy as it looks.” He pats Niala on the back, smirking. “So, how was your first Crucible match?”

“I hate all of you.”

That draws a laugh from the others. Suddenly she’s a part of their world, included in the circle as they retell their favorite kills and compare their records. She breathes deeply in the afterglow, smiling at Ghost as the merriment goes on around them. For the first time since she awakened, she feels like she belongs.

“So, she has claws after all.” They all turn at the sound of the other Hunter’s voice; she’s standing on the fringes of the group, her arms crossed.

“Oh–” Niala holds out the dagger as a peace offering, bowing her head. “Sorry I took your knife, I just. Reacted.”

“No.” The sniper closes Niala’s fingers around the handle. “Keep it. You did well.”

It’s an unexpected gift. “Thank you- I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good. Now your new life begins in earnest, little huntress.” She nods at the group, turning heel as her Ghost warps her back into orbit.

The Warlock whistles. “Pretty sure that’s the most she’s ever said at once. Must have made quite the impression.”

The female Titan nods. “You may not have won today’s battle, Guardian, but I would count it as a victory all the same.”

“I will. Thank you, everyone. I swear I’ll get better.”

“We look forward to it,” the second Warlock says, “and you’ve earned at least one name from us. I’m Chance-23.”

“Ruby,” the female Titan chimes in, “and the other big lug is Dax.”

“And _I_ … think you have more to learn before I give you mine, _Niala_.” The talkative one teases. “You manage to kill me five times in one Crucible match, and my name is yours.”

“Deal.” They shake on it, Niala matching his smirk with a determined stare. “Never thought I’d say this to anyone, but I look forward to killing you.”

He laughs. “Welcome to the life of a Guardian.” As the others begin disappearing into the night sky, he motions at the stars. “It’s pretty late, but you might still catch Cayde before he clocks out for the night. He’s the Hunter Vanguard- should be able to set you up with a room on the Tower.”

“Oh.” In the back of her mind she hears the Exo chuckling to himself as he abandons her to the Crucible’s clutches. “We’ve… met.”

The Warlock nods. “Easy, then. Catch you later.”

After he transmats away, Niala turns to Ghost. “Remember when I complained about having to fly all the way out here to get my ass kicked?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s fly all the way back to the Tower so we can kick Cayde’s ass.”


	4. Cayde's Golden Opportunity

I almost feel bad for sending such a bright-eyed young Guardian into Shaxx’s proving grounds, but you gotta call ‘em like you see ‘em. Getting her into a fight is the best way to find out how she wields the Light, and the Crucible has a way of triggering a fight or flight response that regular old baddies can’t. That and this situation has the smell of opportunity, with a capital ‘O’. 

I slip away while Shaxx gives her the rundown, heading for the bar. The Tower’s layout must’ve been designed with prying eyes in mind – this watering hole is so far removed from Vanguard HQ that they only look for me here if they’re desperate. Given that the most interesting part of the day was a rookie crashing their ship into the hangar, I doubt anyone’ll come looking for me.

It’s late in the day, so the place is packed with the usual suspects. Two in particular catch my eye: Suki, a surly Dead Orbit scavenger, and Naal, a smug Awoken trader. She's leaning against a wall nursing a stiff drink, and he's sitting alone a few feet away, most likely because no one can stand his company. They’ve got a habit of arguing over just about anything, which makes it exceedingly easy to coax them into a wager. I sidle over to the jukebox, taking my time flipping through the available tunes.

As anticipated, I get a rise out of Suki, who scowls at me over her glass. “C’mon Cayde, leave the music alone.”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Dead Orbit scavenger! How’re you holding up these days?”

“Better if you leave me in peace for once.”

“You know- you’re right. Here I was, sniffing out the betting venture of the year, getting ready to cut you in on it, and I didn’t even stop to think I might be bothering you. I’m ashamed! Truly ashamed. I’ll get out of your hair, quicker than-”

She waves an impatient hand. “Fine, I’ll bite. What’s the bet?”

“You sure? I’d hate to impose.” Her glower says everything. My Ghost projects an image of the newbie from our conversation earlier. “It just so happens that our newest Guardian came from the Reef. No Fallen to kill, no reason for her Light to manifest. That put us in a bit of a pickle when it came time for her to see her Vanguard - so I thought to myself, ‘Why not put her in Shaxx’s capable hands and see where the chips fall?’ But y'know, I'm not sure where things'll end up. Any ideas?”

Suki considers the projection for a moment. “Easy. Warlock.”

“That was quick. How d’you figure?”

“Awoken have a thing for mysticism.”

Bingo. Naal turns to face her, scowling.“You can’t just assume something like that. That’s racist.”

The scavenger raises an eyebrow. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that she isn’t a Warlock.”

“Are you even listening, scrap-monkey? I’m saying you can’t make assumptions based on appearance. Everyone knows a Guardian’s powers stem from something within.” He frowns, refilling his drink from the bottle at his side. “What’s she like, Cayde?”

“Truth be told, I didn’t exchange more than a handful of words with her, but…” I think back on it. “Definitely nervous. Maybe a little shy at first, but her shake was firm. Trusting- didn’t question me leaving her with Shaxx. Upfront about what she knew. Seemed like a straight-shooter, far as I could tell.”

Naal smirks at Suki. “Does that sound like a Warlock to you? She’s obviously a Titan.”

“You’re a moron.”

He leaps to his feet, swaying just enough to give me the good news: he’s tipsy. “I’ll take that bet any day, scrapper.”

Ears are perked all around the bar. Now’s my moment. I motion to the other bargoers with a flourish. “What about the rest of you fine individuals? You must’ve figured the odds by now.”

They look at each other uncertainly for a moment. One of them finally chimes in, “1/1 on Warlock, I’d think.”

"1/1?" Someone protests, "It's gotta be at least 2/1!"

The background murmurs crescendo into excited chatter. Before long they’re lining up to place their bets, Suki and Naal at the head. I have my Ghost tune in to Shaxx’s Crucible feed, projecting it behind the counter as the Glimmer rolls in. “It’s starting,” Ghost warns after a tick.

“You heard the Ghost- last call, folks! Place your bet now, or forever hold your peace!” 

“What about you, Cayde?” An Exo Titan looks at me expectantly. 

“Come again?”

“You don’t want a piece of the action?”

Fair point. I look at the hologram again, see the newbie clutching some garbage gun one of the other Guardians must’ve given her. (Note to self: maybe requisition the newbie some supplies next time before sending them into the thunderdome). It’s tough getting a read on her, but there’s something sharp in those yellow eyes… something I can’t quite put my finger on. It's a whim, but it's enough to convince me. “Sure, I’ll throw something in the pot. 500 Glimmer says she’s a Hunter.”

“Seriously?” he laughs. “Hunter’s the worst odds of the bunch. You know something I don’t?”

I shrug. “Guess I’m just feelin’ lucky today.”

The match is… rough, to say the least. Every time the kid goes down without so much as a whisper of Light, the crowd roars with agony. At some point, I start to wonder if this situation is as lucrative as I hoped it’d be- what if she doesn’t figure out her abilities? I’ve already grown real fond of this pile of Glimmer heaped on the counter, but if she doesn’t show her hand soon, it’s all going back where it came from. And I’d have sent her in to die, repeatedly, without reason. Neither of those things is amiable.

Then, as if she can feel me doubting her, she steals Naomi-17’s knife.

A cheer goes up from the corner gone in on ‘Hunter’. The other two groups jeer, claiming it doesn’t mean a thing without seeing a Super. I don’t say anything, but I already know how this is gonna go. I know what a Hunter holding a blade looks like. It’s hers now. Which means… she’s mine. Mine to teach, outfit, and send into the frontier.

That’s about when I realize that the next time she sees me, she’s going to be madder than a pack of Thrall that are behind on their beauty sleep.

The bar erupts with noise as the unmistakable sound of Arc crackles on video. Folks mourning, celebrating, laughing at their buddies that lost too much or won against the odds. I motion the Titan over. “Mind helping me pay out the victorious parties?”

Fortunately for me, he’s got a head for numbers, so we get things settled fast. I snatch up my share of the loot, plus the leftover from the less fortunate, and skedaddle. Turns out I’ve got somewhere I need to be.

⸻ ▽ ⸻ 

Must be my lucky day after all- Zavala and Ikora are off somewhere, probably dealing with some super serious Vanguard nonsense that I’m _definitely_ disappointed to be missing out on. Means I don’t have to worry about them giving me dirty looks when the new upstart returns to express her concerns. Speaking of which- I’m leaning over the table when I hear footsteps at my back, but I keep my eyes fixed on my map.

She comes up behind me, hesitates, then sets her terrible gun down on the table. “Cayde?”

“Yeah?” I’m trying to play it cool, which proves difficult when I twist to find those eyes boring holes into me. Hell, if I thought they were sharp before, now they were piercing enough to kill a man. I clear my throat to cover. “Hey, you’re back! How was the, uh… how are things?”

She doesn’t answer at first, just stares for a spell, considering how much trouble she’d be in if she put a couple bullet holes in me. “The Crucible, you mean?”

“Yeah, that crazy ol’ thing. Didn’t have too much trouble, I hope?”

Niala exchanges a conspiratorial look with her Ghost. “A warning would have been nice.”

“Don’t tell me Shaxx didn’t explain what you were getting into?”

“He told me what the Crucible _was_ , but it’s a little- no, a _lot_ more intense than it sounds. And he even used words like ‘crush’ and ‘dominate’.” She crosses her arms. “Considering you’re apparently going to be my mentor, I’d appreciate if you gave me a heads up next time you decide to throw me into a roaring fire.”

Her tone is surprisingly calm. Not angry, then, but looking for an apology? That simplifies things; sweet-talking after the fact is easy. “I’ll level with you, Guardian. As a Hunter- oh, and congrats on that by the way- you’re gonna get tossed into situations a lot hairier than the Crucible… but, you’re right. I should’ve prepared you better. This is on me.

“So what do you say I make it up to you? Tomorrow I’ll give you some Bladedancer training, outfit you with guns that didn’t come from the baddie bargain bin… the whole shebang. I’ll even throw in dinner tonight, on me, since you probably worked up an appetite out there. Sound good?” Technically dinner’s on her, seeing as I’ll be paying with the Glimmer I made off of her, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“... Sure. But- how did you know I was a Bladedancer?”

_Shit_.

“You- you’ve got a dagger on you,” I manage. “You didn’t have one before. Standard issue for Hunters, of course, but only a Bladedancer would find one in the heat of combat. ‘Dancers and daggers go together like me and spicy ramen. C’mon.” I throw an arm over her shoulders and lead her away before she accidentally digs up more dirt. 

Profit, ramen, and a new Hunter to live through vicariously. All in all, not a bad day.


	5. The Proper Stance

Like so many memories, Niala’s dreams flutter just out of reach.

Between not-so-serious quips and fashion tips, last night Cayde had filled her in on the state of the world. There were unspoken gaps in his tales, missing links that scratched at the back of her mind. In her sleep they hound her, whispering threats, touching the part of her that holds only darkness. It is a relief when they finally release their grip, scattering at the sound of a soft voice.

“Guardian!”

Well, maybe not so soft after all.

Her eyes flutter open, groggily searching for the source. She finds Cayde looming over her, arms crossed. “About time. I know I didn’t prepare you for the Crucible, but I hardly think that warrants you standing me up.”

She sits up, blinking slowly. “I’m... late? What time...?”

“You already know what time it is: late. Now rise and shine, Guardian. You’ve got learning to do.” He considers her for a moment. “I’ll wait in the hallway while you, uh... get dressed.”

Her cheeks flush as she realizes she’s not exactly dressed for company. Instinctively, her hand flinches towards the blanket draped over her legs, only to shy away again when she realizes how stupid she must look. Better to play it cool, like she’s not bothered by it.

Ghost hovers into view as Cayde makes his exit. “I told him not to come in,” it remarks once he’s gone.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Its blue eye shifts away from her guiltily. “You seemed tired. I thought you could use the rest.”

“Until yesterday, I was dead. Probably for a long time. I think I’ve rested enough.”

The hard edge in her voice is telling. “I’m sorry,” Ghost says quietly.

She spares it a glance as she swings her legs out of the bed, opening Ghost’s interface to select the newbie armor Cayde requisitioned for her last night. “I’ve been meaning to ask- your name isn’t really a name, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“There are other Ghosts. It’d be like calling me Guardian all the time.”

“That’s true. But we don’t normally take names. We have no need to.”

“Well, now you do.” She fixes Ghost with a solemn stare as her armor materializes over her underclothes. “I don’t want you to be just a title. We’re partners, remember? And my partner should have a name.”

“You can call me whatever you like, I suppose-“

“No. I want you to choose. How do you want the world to know you, Ghost? How do you want me to know you?”

Ghost seems flabbergasted. “I- I’m not sure. I’ll have to do some research.”

“Sure. You can do that while I’m training with Cayde.”

It hovers skeptically beside her. “Are you sure you won’t need me for that?”

She shrugs, heading for the doorway. “Worst case scenario, you find me later and practice reviving me again.”

⸻ ▽ ⸻

Cayde waits as promised, leaning against the wall, chatting up two other Guardians. Niala hesitates at the fringes of their conversation, loathe to interrupt; Cayde’s telling a story about a mission with someone named Shiro. Without Ghost and unnoticed by Cayde, she feels almost as out of place as she did in the Reef. It’s impossible to miss the glow in the Guardians’ eyes, and the obvious pleasure Cayde takes in having an audience. It’s a world she’s just scratched the surface of, one that she doesn’t quite belong to yet.

“So Shiro says, ‘You sure this’ll work?’ and I look at him real quiet, and I say… ‘Shiro. You should know better than to expect I thought any of this through beforehand.’”

One of the Guardians glances at Niala, just for a moment - Niala opens her mouth to say something, only to close it again as the stranger looks away very pointedly. “Oh _Cayde_. Your plans are the worst.”

“What plans?” the other quips, and the three of them laugh. Niala’s stomach lurches at the sound, the notion that she’s unwanted here growing by the second.

She’s considering whether she should just leave when Cayde finally turns toward her, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Aha, there’s the Guardian of the hour. Now that you’ve finally decided to grace me with your presence, we’ve got somewhere to be. My apologies, ladies.” He mock-bows to his admirers, motioning for Niala to follow him as he turns heel. She keeps her head down, too anxious to make eye contact with the others; she can only imagine they’re none too pleased that Cayde has somewhere to be.

He leads her through the Tower, into the open air- a courtyard, empty save a few patches of grass and a table laden with guns of various shapes and sizes.

Cayde cocks his head at her. “You look disappointed.”

“Oh- no, I was just expecting something more... official.”

He laughs, orange lights flickering with mirth. “This is about as official as it gets. Hell, most Guardians don’t even get _this_ much.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Most of them handle it just fine. Killing comes natural to a Guardian. So does dying, but that’s what we have our Ghosts for.”

She glances over the array of weaponry. “What’s all this?”

“Seeing as we sent you into the Crucible without a weapon and you didn’t seem to get along with that auto rifle, thought I’d lay out your options for you. That way you can test ‘em out, figure out what works for you. Any of them catching your eye?”

Her hands itch for her knife. “Not really.”

“You’ve sort of used an auto-rifle before. Why don’t you give that another go?”

Niala grabs the gun he motions towards, frowning at the shape of it in her hands. Something feels off about it, but she humors him regardless, looking at him expectantly. “Am I supposed to fire this at you, or…?”

“That… was not part of the plan, no. Ghost!” Cayde calls, and it crosses to the other side of the courtyard, projecting an image of a 4-armed creature. “We call these ‘The Fallen’. This particular fellow is a Captain. You’ll be facing a lot of them as you get your feet under you in the field. Today, he’ll be your target practice.”

She nods, pointing her weapon at the flickering image and pulling the trigger. Some of her shots miss, but others pierce through the hologram, flashing green where she’s ‘wounded’ it.

“Not bad. Not, uh… not great, but not bad.”

Niala sets the gun down with a frown. “It doesn’t... feel right. I don’t like holding down the trigger constantly and fighting to keep it aiming in the right direction.”

“So it’s the recoil that’s bothering you? In that case, I’ve got good news for ya.” He lifts a revolver off of the table, twirling it in his hand so the grip is facing her. “Meet your new best friend: the hand cannon. A staple in the Hunter’s arsenal, and my personal favorite.”

She reaches for it, brow furrowing with concentration. It fits neatly in her hand, but it’s heavier than she expects. Taking a deep breath, she lines up her shot, squeezes the trigger- and Cayde winces as the bullet whizzes past the Captain’s shoulder. Painfully aware of his grimace, she tries again- and misses. Face burning with embarrassment and determination, she gives it one last shot, missing _again_. That’s as far as she gets before Cayde puts a hand over her grip, pointing the gun at the ground.

“Easy. Don’t let frustration get the better of you.”

“I’m _not_ frustrated,” she huffs, clearly frustrated.

“All right, I believe you,” he lies, “but let me give you a few pointers. That’s what I’m here for.” He unholsters the hand cannon at his side, holding it where she can see it. “You need to move your grip up just a tad- high as you can go. Put your index finger here, like- right, just like that. Now wrap that other hand over, like this.

“Like…?”

“No, tuck your thumb over the- okay, closer, but your left index finger needs to be- you know what? Let me just show you.” He secures his own gun at his hip, taking a position at her back with his hands covering hers on the grip.

Her breath catches in her throat. Fortunately Cayde seems oblivious to the rising heat from her cheeks as he adjusts the lay of their fingers on the hand cannon. “Like this, see? Just like you’re making a fist. Technically you _can_ fire this baby one-handed, but then you’re back to the recoil problem, and your arm’ll get tired awful quick. Put a supporting hand up there, and we’re back in business. Now…”

He guides their arms into place, gun pointed directly at the hologram’s head. “Focus on your sights. Might make your target look a little blurry, but that way you’re sure to hit where you’re aiming. Once you’ve got ‘em where you want ‘em, pull the trigger.”

Her finger squeezes the trigger. The gun jerks upwards, and Cayde shakes his head, cupping her hands more firmly. “Gently. You pull too hard, your hand moves, and your shot misses. Try again. Deep breath this time.”

She’s nervous. It’s fucking with her aim, and she knows it. So she closes her eyes, focusing on her heartbeat. Deep breath in, hold, then exhale. When she opens her eyes again, her finger clicks into place, and the shot hits home.

“That’s more like it!” He claps her on the back as he steps away. “Just breathe and look down the sights. Hand cannons’ll always treat you right.”

She sighs in relief, placing the gun next to its peers. “What’s next?”

“Bladedancer training. Figure I can teach you a few tricks to get you started.” He catches her curious sideways glance at the last two guns on the table. “Unless you weren’t satisfied with the hand cannon?”

“I… like knowing what my options are,” she admits.

“All right, I can talk you through them. Don’t be afraid to speak up if there’s something you need. You’ve gotta be proactive if you wanna last out there in the wild.”

She thinks back to the Guardians hanging on Cayde’s every word in the hallway. “Is that… a thing? Do Guardians work together a lot?”

“Depends on the mission.” He hesitates, then scuffs a foot on the ground sheepishly. “If I’m being honest, Hunters usually go it alone. Most everyone does now and again, but Hunters especially.”

“Then why'd you say I needed to be proactive…?”

“Would you believe ‘It sounded cool in my head’? No?” Cayde sighs, crossing his arms. “Eh… truth be told, kid, I feel like I did you wrong by chucking you into the Crucible like that. I guess I just wanna make sure you feel safe with me at your back. Well- relatively speaking. There’s no part of being a Guardian that’s _actually_ safe, but-”

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous, huh?” She smiles. “It’s fine, really. I mean- yeah it sucked, but it worked out in the end. No hard feelings.”

“You sure?” When she nods, he exhales relief. “Whew! Glad to hear it. I’ve got enough heat on my tail without another newbie complaining to Zavala.”

“Who’s Zavala?”

“No one, don’t worry about it. Now,” he lays his palms flat on the table, nodding at one of the remaining guns. “That’s a pulse rifle. Fires in bursts. Given your thoughts on the auto rifle, I’d say you can safely skip it. _This_ is a scout rifle. It’s a bit more long-range than your other options - high impact, and high precision.”

She raises an eyebrow at Cayde as she picks up the rifle. “I’m guessing I need to ‘not worry’ about Zavala the same way I didn’t need to worry about the Crucible. You ever going to stop leaving out obviously important pieces of information when you’re telling me things?”

“Hey, sometimes it’s better if you don’t know. That’s my job - being a gatekeeper of information. Holding on to the hard truths.”

“The way you described it last night, your ‘job’ is filing paperwork about other Guardians’ heroic deeds and pining for the day you can make your grand escape.”

“All right, don’t get cocky, kid.” He steps behind her again without being asked, arms encircling her as they reach for the rifle. “There’s two different stances you can take with a rifle. Most rookies like standing bladed-off, like this-” He takes a step to the side, swiveling their hips in tandem. Niala feels her face flush again, but surely he can’t see that from his current position - she has no reason to be embarrassed anyway, he’s just showing her how to shoot. He probably does this with all the Hunter trainees.

“You keep your weak shoulder facing the target, plant your legs firm, and line up the shot. But if I ever find myself with a rifle in-hand- and I do my best to stick to the cannon, mind you- I square up my shoulders, like this.” They turn again, facing the Fallen hologram dead-on. “Now, just like with the cannon, you need both of your hands for support. Keep the stock snug against your chest, and your left hand here, on the foregrip. Elbows down- good. Give it a shot.”

Bullets sing through the air, slicing into the hologram with far greater accuracy than the hand cannon. There’s something deeply satisfying about it. Cayde must be impressed too, judging by the low whistle behind her. “Now there’s some sharp shooting. Looks like we have a winner. Shame, though - hand cannons are so much more stylish.”

She cocks her head at him as he steps back again. “That sounds like an opinion to me.”

“Uh-huh, a factual one.” He claps his hands together, grinning at her. “You satisfied with the gunplay for now? Ready to move on to some knifework?” She all but forgets about the rifle in an instant, stowing it at her back.  The Fallen “Captain” flickers, flashing as it’s duplicated across the courtyard. Soon they’re surrounded by hulking holograms, staring them down, unblinking.

“You ought to be warmed up enough by now- let’s see that blade of yours.”

Niala nods, taking the hilt in her right hand, yellow eyes trained on her Vanguard.

“The biggest mistake a Hunter can make is thinking they can control Arc. Arc’s not like Void or Solar. You don’t tell it where to go, you redirect it. You let it flow through you. You’ve done it once, so you know what I’m talking about.”

She nods again, remembering the way it felt in her chest, white-hot and weightless.

“I’m sure Ikora has some fancy egghead explanation for channeling it, but far as I’m concerned, it’s all about instinct. You overthink it, you’re liable to keep that Arc trapped inside you and stop your heart. Your Ghost can revive you of course, but dying hurts like a bitch- especially imploding.” He catches the look on her face and backpedals. “Oh, but uh- I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Like I said, you’ve done this before.”

“Right. _Before_ I knew that I could explode myself.”

“That's _implode_. Get your head back in the game, rookie. It’s do or die time.”

Maybe she should have asked Ghost along after all.

She takes a deep breath, focusing on the Light bubbling in her core. It crackles, softly at first though it crescendos ferociously, sparking in her veins. All at once it bursts from her with a roar, her voice breaking the silence in the courtyard as she lunges at one of the holograms. It disappears instantly beneath her knife, though she hardly notices, already preoccupied with the next. And the next. And the next, and the next, until the storm leaves her and she remembers she exists beyond the dagger in her hand.

Her breath returns in ragged gasps. All she can hear is blood pounding in her ears. The world around her is lost until Cayde strolls out in front of her; she focuses on him, trying to tune the world back in.

He looks surprised somehow, jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for the words. Finally he shrugs. “Guess you’re a natural.”

“Is... it not normally...?” She pants as her heart rate starts to normalize.

“Not really, no. There’s usually a few things that go wrong. Singed hairs, flash burns, that sort of thing. With you it’s like that knife is a part of your arm, and Arc’s just another language you speak.” He puzzles over that for a moment, fingers tapping against his chin, taking a few ambling steps in thought. “Can’t be that ‘Collective’ hocus pocus- it’d be more common otherwise. Maybe... hmm. Ikora swears that Awoken have an easier time mastering the elements. Always thought that was garbage myself, but...”

He considers it a breath longer before shrugging it off. “Either way, seems there’s not much I can teach you. I was going to give you some tips, show you some proper Bladedancer stances, but your form was damn near perfect. It’s almost a shame.”

She slips her dagger back into its sheath. “Sounds like you were just looking for another excuse to put your arms around me.”

He stares at her for a moment, as though taken aback by her brashness. Then, hands on his hips, he struts closer, leaning down just a tick so their eyes are on the same level. “Well, maybe I think it’s cute when you blush.”

 _Oh, shit. He_ _noticed_ _._

The boldness drains out of her in a rush. She clears her throat loudly, ignoring the traitorous burning in her cheeks. “Is that- is that everything? Are we done here?”

He chuckles softly to himself, taking a step away to give her some space. “I reckon so, yeah. You hold on to that scout rifle for now, but don’t be afraid to holler if you wanna try the hand cannon again.” He grabs the other guns, passing them to his Ghost. Around them, the Fallen holograms flicker and fade. “I’ll be in touch when there’s work for you- shouldn’t be long. We always need more Guardians.”

When he turns to dismiss her she’s already rounding the corner, eager to leave her embarrassment behind her and find Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between chapters. I was hoping to do a chapter a week, but things got busy for me again. I ended up writing most of this fic on the bus, in the notes on my phone. That said, I have like 20 chapters planned, so know that I'll get to it eventually. <3 Hopefully I can fall into a regular posting cadence again soon.


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